A Counseling For A Detective And A Doctor
by TChallaInTheBathTub
Summary: Prompt: A neighbor called the police when Sherlock shot the wall. Sherlock and john got arrested/questioned for domestic violence and end up in marriage counseling. Slash


**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

**A/N:** This was written for the **_Sherlocked_** fest exchange at Sherlockmas, LJ.

* * *

><p><em><strong>The Present Day<strong>_

"Sherlock, sit down and stop messing around."

"John, I hate waiting."

"Well, it's your fault we're here in the first place."

Sherlock turned to object, but John brought his hand up and stopped him. "Do not give me that look, Sherlock. We both know it's your fault. And do not use the _"it's just a wall, John"_ excuse with me because it didn't work before and it will never work. Now, sit down."

Sherlock glared at John for a moment before slumping down on the chair next to him.

They were sitting in the waiting room in their new marriage counselor's office. John rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. How in the hell did they get here? _Oh right_, Sherlock's fault.

* * *

><p><em><strong>4 Weeks Ago<strong>_

As soon as John opened the door of the building, the sound of shots filled his head. _Oh god no_, not again. He run up the stairs as fast as he could with grocery bags balancing between his arms.

"Sherlock." He yelled pushing the door to their flat open. Just like the last time, Sherlock was sitting in his armchair with John's gun hanging loosely between his fingers. The only difference was that Sherlock was not in his pajamas.

"What the hell are you doing?" Déjà vu all over again.

Sherlock grumbled but did not answer him. John sighed going to the kitchen and dropping the bags next to Sherlock's new experiment. John doesn't even want to know why was there a human lung with an eyeball inside it, just another day at 221B.

"The head better be back in the morgue, Sherlock."

"I gave it to Lestrade," Sherlock yelled from the other room.

John nodded satisfied.

"You should come here and help me unload these stuff."

"Why should I?"

"I don't know," John said sarcastically. "Maybe because I am still sore from our last chase and it's your fault I have huge bruises covering half of my body and my face looks like someone had painted it purple?" He put the milk in the fridge.

"It's not my fault you slipped and fell down the stairs, John."

"You're the one who led us to that hideous building," John put away the eggs.

"He ran that way. We had to go into that building to catch him."

"We could've walked to the other side and waited for him to come out," the fruit and veggies were next.

"We could've."

And that was the last thing Sherlock said which made John smile fondly shaking his head.

After he finished putting everything away, John went back to the sitting room. He grabbed his gun from Sherlock glaring down at him before sitting down on his own chair.

"You know, Mrs. Hudson will be mad when she sees what you've done to her wall, _again_."

"She'll survive, again," Sherlock was still leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed. John watched how Sherlock's chest moved with each deep breath he takes.

"You're staring."

"Ha?" John shook his head. "Sorry."

Sherlock smirked without opening his eyes. They stayed like that for exactly 5 minutes before their door burst open. John almost jumped out of his seat while Sherlock straighten up glaring at their guests.

* * *

><p><em><strong>The Present Day<strong>_

"Stop plotting my murder in your head, John."

"Never."

"It is not my fault we're here now."

"Who's fault is it, then?" John snapped turning in his seat to face his flatmate.

"It's Mycroft's fault, of course," Sherlock met his glare.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Back to 4 Weeks Ago<strong>_

John was tired. How long will they keep asking him the same questions. He already answered all of them.

"No. We are not criminals. We are completely the opposite."

"Who called you?"

"I've already told you it wasn't me who shot the damn wall."

"No. Guns are not toys. What the hell do you think I am, a 6 year old."

"No. He did not threaten me."

"I fell down the stairs."

"What? No we're not a couple."

"Oh my god, not with the bruise again. I slipped and fell down the stairs. This is my final answer."

"Again, No. We are _not_ a couple and he did _not_ abuse me physically or emotionally. We are just flatmates. And yes, he is crazy and bloody infuriating at times, and I do want to hit him so hard every time I find a new experiment lying around or an organ in the fridge. But that does not mean we are in an abusive relationship which is not true because we're not... In a relationship, I mean."

But no matter what he says, they still ask the same thing.

"Can you get DI Lestrade in here, please."

:::::

Sherlock was getting bored of this. Who in they're right mind would employ those idiots to protect the people? How many times did he say:

"No. I do not go around shooting people's walls for fun. I only shoot my own wall although right now I wish I had my gun."

"Who's the idiot who called you? No I am not going to shoot him or her."

"What do you _mean_ boredom does not give me the right to terrify people?"

"Yes. I do consider guns to be toys. Why? Because guns make noises and beautiful colours. Do I look like a 6 year old to you?"

"No. I would _never_ threat John with a gun. A new experiment in his room, perhaps, but not a gun. I might be a sociopath but I am not crazy."

"He fell down the stairs."

"A Couple? What does that mean in your little brain?"

"How many times do I have to repeat myself? I have already said he slipped and fell down the stairs."

"No. I do not abuse, John. Not intentionally, anyway. Yes, I would like to hit you right now. Because you're bloody stupid and do not deserve the same air I breath."

But no matter what he says, they're still idiots.

"I am done talking to you morons, get me DI Lestrade, _Now_."

:::::

Finally, after almost 3 hours of interrogation, they were free. Not, you can go home free, but close enough.

"Are you going to explain what happened?"

Sherlock and John were sitting in Lestrade's office glaring at each other, or more of John glaring at Sherlock who was glaring at Lestrade.

"_This_ idiot," John said. "Shot the wall, _again_." Sherlock mutterings were something of the line _"I am not an idiot."_

Lestrade rubbed his temples. "Sherlock, how many times are we going to go through this? I cannot get you out of trouble every time you decide you're bored and that you're above the law."

"I am above it," Sherlock stubbornly answered.

"No you're not. Even if you don't like it, you'll have to accept it."

"The world does not revolve around you alone, Sherlock," John snapped at him.

"No, it revolves around the sun," Sherlock shot back sarcastically, obviously.

"Alright you two," Lestrade said before John could jump and strangle Sherlock. "As much as I am glad to see you, Sherlock, learning, I'll have to tell you what will happen next."

"Nothing will happen," Sherlock leaned back, but his glare was still fixed on Lestrade.

"Don't be too sure, dear brother," Mycroft's voice came from the office's door. Both heads snapped to look at him while Greg Lestrade leaned back in his chair, with his arms behind his head, grinning at the older Holmes.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Back to The Present Day<strong>_

"Mycroft?" John blinked. "Sherlock, if it wasn't for Mycroft's _help_, we both would be in jail right now."

"Do you honestly prefer to be here than jail?"

"Oddly enough, yes I do."

"Dull."

John grumbled angrily before sitting straight again. A minute passed then his head snapped back to Sherlock.

"Remember, you've already managed to get two psychotherapists to run away and got one arrested. Do not even try to get this one admitted into a psych ward or call Lestrade," John frowned thinking for a moment. "At least until we're done with this evaluation then you can do what ever the hell you want."

"John, it's not my fault they were idiots with psychological and moral issues."

* * *

><p><em><strong>3 Weeks Ago<strong>_

It was a normal office. A desk, a couch, two chairs facing each other, and a big window. John didn't like it. But it beats the hell out of being in a tiny holding cell waiting to be thrown into a real prison.

"Well, shall we start, gentlemen." Dr. Ross Solomon said smiling politely at them. "What brings you here today?"

"He shot the wall," John said forcing a smile on his face.

"He didn't entertain me," Sherlock answered lazily.

"What?" John glared at him. "I wasn't even home when you started blowing holes in the wall," he snapped.

"I was bored," Sherlock snapped back. "You didn't give me anything to keep me occupied."

"Sherlock," John gritted his teeth. "You're an adult, for crying out loud, you can find something to entertain you. Other than shooting the bloody wall and getting us arrested," he was yelling by now.

"Alright, let's all calm down," thankfully the doctor jumped in at the right time. "Playing the blame game will not help anyone."

John and Sherlock glared at each other for a minute, but settled back down.

"That's better. Now, I know relationships are hard, but in order to make it work," John interrupted the good doctor with his usual _"we're not a couple"_ response, but it was in vain, the doctor continued his speech like he didn't hear him. "You'll have to express your feelings for and to each other."

"Like how you told your wife you have a gambling problem? And that you blame her for it?" Sherlock said raising his eyebrow.

"Pardon me?" The doctor looked at him with slightly wide eyes while John dropped his head in his hands.

"Sherlock..." He hoped Sherlock would take the hint and stop, but it didn't work.

"You gamble because you feel emasculate by your wife. She is either making more money than you do, or she's in a higher position than you," Sherlock tilted his head a bit. "Probably both. This suggests a poor communication between the two of you, and that you have a low self-esteem."

Solomon shifted uncomfortable in his chair. "We're not talking about me..."

Sherlock cut him off. "You've been gambling for over a year now even though you're obviously very bad. You're drown in debt and she's still oblivious to your activities. What does that say about your relationship?"

John sighed, _what did he ever do to deserve this?_ He wanted to yell at Sherlock to shut the hell up, but he knew that when Sherlock in this mood, there will no stopping him. he watched as Sherlock stared at the wide eyed doctor for a moment before getting up.

"I suggest you tell your wife about this. And get help before it's too late," Sherlock grabbed his coat and stormed out of the office. "Come on, John. We're leaving."

John looked at the doctor, who had his hands on his hair, with sympathy.

"I apologize," he started to say.

"Get out."

"Alright then. It was good to, ah, meet you," and John followed Sherlock out promising himself that the detective will _pay_.

* * *

><p><em><strong>The Present Day<strong>_

"May I remind you that It was my gun you used to disfigure the smiley face on the wall," John pointed his finger angrily at Sherlock's face.

"Get to the point, John."

"My gun means it's my head on the line, Sherlock. And I do not fancy going to jail."

* * *

><p><em><strong>2 Weeks Ago<strong>_

"So," their new counselor, Dr. Anthony Sandford, grinned at them. "I understand you are here under protests."

John liked him. He had the air of friendliness around him and seemed completely at ease. His office was like the other one, but John noticed, it was a little bit homy too. He really liked it._ Sherlock better not screw this one_, he thought glancing at his flatmate who sat next to him on the big couch in front of the doctor's desk.

"Yes," John said smiling. "It's either talking to you or being locked up."

"I still think jail was the right choice," Sherlock muttered next to him.

To John's surprise, Sandford laughed pointing his pen at Sherlock who looked disgusted.

"I don't blame you there," the doctor said. "It's never easy to open up to a total stranger and letting him into your lives," he leaned back into his huge chair. "But, I am here to help you fix your relationship and make it better." John was amazed how the air of professionalism joined the other one easily.

John noticed Sherlock's frown turning into a smirk. _Oh no_, without realizing what he was doing, John took hold of Sherlock's hand squeezing it hard. Sherlock's head snapped to look at him with a questioning eyes.

"So," John said not looking at Sherlock but still holding his hand. "What can you do to, ah, fix this?" He was still grinning and hoping his face was not burning red.

"It's not me, John," Sandford responded. "This will not work unless both of you are ready to put a 100% in it."

John squeezed Sherlock's hand harder when the latter snorted. "I see. So what should we do now?"

"Well, we can start by talking about the reason you two are here?"

"He shot the wall and the police thought we are in an abusive relationship." John said too fast.

"Are you in an abusive relationship?"

"No," John said frowning.

"What do you think, Sherlock?" John, finally, looked at Sherlock when the doctor turned his attention to him.

Sherlock didn't say anything. He was eying Sandford with his_, I'll deduce every single thing about you,_ look. John was not happy.

They sat in silence for a long minute waiting for Sherlock's answer. Just when John was getting ready to talk, Sherlock said suddenly with a knowing smirk. "He is straight."

The both blinked at him.

"John is straight." Sherlock said clarifying his answer.

"Ah," the doctor seemed taking back by the answer. "Aren't you two together?"

"No," they both answered at the same time. Sandford looked at the adjoined hands.

"Oh," John was sure his face gone red when he let go of Sherlock's hand.

A second passed then Sherlock resumed what he was saying. "You've been checking John for the past 15 minutes. You're face twitched when he took my hand," Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

John's eyes widened looking between the two of them. _What the hell_? His mind was not taking all of this.

"I have no idea..."

"How long have you been sleeping with your assistant? God, how dull and obvious," the smirk was back in Sherlock's face now.

"That's highly inappropriate," Sandford snapped.

"Sherlock, please," John pleaded. But at the same time, something in his chest felt warmer. Sherlock being protective or _maybe_ even a bit jealous.

Sherlock ignored both of them. "Humm, why would you stay married if you can't stand looking at your wife?" he frowned then a grin replaced the smirk. "Ah, of course. It's always the same thing. She's rich and you're not. Money is one of the most obvious motives for almost everything."

John was staring at Sherlock when Sandford slammed his fists into his desk. "Who gave you the right to come here and accuse me of..."

"Oh stop it. I can read you like a book," Sherlock snarled getting up. "Let's go John."

John sighed as he watched Sherlock yank the door open and leave. He looked back at the angry doctor.

"I am sorry," he said getting up.

Sandford sat back down taking a deep breath. "It's alright," he smiled at John who felt unease. "Would you like to go out sometime?"

"Err..." John's eyes went down to look at his feet. He didn't know what to say. "Ah, I am flattered, but," as usual, he was cut off by a growling detective,_ who appeared from out of nowhere,_ grabbing his arm. "He's not interested." Sherlock said dragging him out of the office.

_Could he rally be jealous?_John didn't dare to hope.

* * *

><p><em><strong>The Present Day<strong>_

"That will never happen. Mycroft is having the best days of his life seeing me here," Sherlock responded with disgust evident all over his tone and face.

"Don't forget he also said he'll throw us both in a "special place" if you drive this one crazy," Sherlock was about to object again but John held up his hand again. "You will sit down, smile, and cooperate. Got it?"

Sherlock glared at him then turned his head muttering. John settled back in his seat.

"good, I'll take that as a yes."

* * *

><p><em><strong>1 Week Ago<strong>_

Alright, this time John will not get attached to anything in this office. Both doctors before this one kicked them out, well one kicked him while the other hit on him. He shook his head, the _point_ is that they were over, the previous sessions, in less than 30 minutes. So he'll sit, smile, nod, slap Sherlock if he opens his mouth, and just say yes to everything while praying for nothing to happens.

Too bad for John, the plan didn't work.

As soon as they entered the office and were met by Dr. Bob Swaden, John knew by looking at Sherlock that they'll be out of the door in less than 10 minutes.

The man in front of them seemed normal and to John's relief, he was definitely not checking him out. To his discontent, the doctor's eyes were locked on Sherlock. _Oh no_, he rubbed his temples. _When will this nightmare end?_

Sherlock seemed oblivious to the looks he was getting. His eyes wee analytical as ever, categorizing everything he sees.

"So," John broke the silence and bringing back Swaden from wherever he was. John did not like him.

"I apologize," the doctor said sheepishly. "I had a long night and I guess my head is not working properly, yet," he smiled then opened his notebook. "So, I see here a case of domestic violence. Let's start with what happened?" John was surprise to hear him snigger.

"Ah," he looked at Sherlock hoping for some help. Sherlock was still staring at the other man. "Well, it started by him," John pointed at his friend. "Shooting our wall."

"I see," John was not as observant as Sherlock, but even he can see that this man was not listening.

"After that," he kept talking hoping for something, anything. "The police came and we got arrested."

_Was that a flinch?_ John frowned and narrowed his eyes. There is something wrong here.

"Ah," Swaden looked at him with a forced smile before looking back at Sherlock. "So, he threaten you with the gun then shot the wall?"

John was getting annoyed of being addressed but not looked at. He growled his answer. "He didn't threaten me. He just shot the face on the wall."

"John," Sherlock suddenly got up. "I think I am going to go out for a minute."

"What?" John looked at him with surprise.

"You can't leave, Mr. Holmes," Swaden said, also, standing. "We're in the middle of a session here."

"It's hardly a session," Sherlock smiled. "It's only been 12 minutes." He didn't wait for a response and left the place.

John stared at the door for a moment before turning with a grin to look at the doctor.

"He's always like that," he said straighten himself. "Well, I guess that leaves us."

The man was frowning at him and John was starting to feel very uncomfortable. _He'll murder Sherlock later._

"You're boyfriend..."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Husband?"

"No. We're not a couple."

"Oh. Are you sure?"

"Yes. I am straight." John's frown was matching Swaden's now. _When will people stop assuming they're together?_

"Then," he leaned forward. "Why are you in a marriage counseling?"

"His brother's idea of a joke."

At that moment, Sherlock came back.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes. Glad you're joining us again."

John glared at the man. He hated that look and that twisted smile. Sherlock, on the other hand, was wearing grinning.

"May I speak freely Dr. Swaden?" Sherlock said, almost, politely.

"Of course. We're here to share and explore our deepest feelings and thoughts."

"Excellent."

John was going to object on the "freely" part, but something in Sherlock's eyes and the way he was behaving stopped him. He sat a little bit straighter in his chair and watched as Sherlock leaned back in his chair crossing his legs.

"I've been observing you since we got here," he started. "And I know you've been watching me. We both know what you had in mind and I can tell you now that it will never happen."

John will cherish the look on Bob Swaden's face forever.

"Don't get me wrong, please. I am interest in you," John frowned at Sherlock."However, my interest is entirely different than yours." Sherlock's smile was turning into the smirk John knew it meant _"you're an idiot and I just proved it" _and he was right. "I was on the phone with someone, who I believe, would like to talk to you."

"Who?" The question was out of the doctor's mouth too fast.

"DI Lestrade," Sherlock paused for a moment. "From Scotland Yard."

"What?" Both John and Swaden yelled at the same time.

"Please," Sherlock's expression did not change. "I can understand John's surprise, but not yours. We both know you killed your wife last night. And that the body is still in your car."

John couldn't do anything but to stare at Sherlock for a second then at the, apparently, murderer for another second.

"This is outrageous," the man under accusation jumped from his chair waving his hands at Sherlock. "How dare you."

"Sit down," Sherlock's voice was as cold as ever. "I've already gathered all the evidence I need to prove how, when, and why you killed her."

The man glared at him in an obvious challenge. John should not enjoy this, _but hell_, he was.

"Oh, I see that you don't believe me," Sherlock snickered. "Because I was here the whole time? Let me enlighten you." He stood. "Lets start with the how. You used your belt to strangle her to death. How did I find out? the marks are all over your hands. A small puncture wound on your index finger, probably from trying to unbuckle the belt fast. Bruises are forming on your palm. She must've fought hard."

John felt his blood boiling.

"The When now. From the looks of your hands, it happened between 10 to 11." Sherlock walked to stand in front of the desk.

"The why is a little bit complicated. At first I thought it was because she might've been unfaithful to you," Sherlock leaned over the desk. "But then I saw how you were looking at me and it was all clear," his smile was back. "She found out you were sleeping around. She was going to divorce you and ruin your life. Probably exposing your unethical behaviors with your patients? That would be very bad for you, wouldn't it?

John was watching Swaden for any sudden movements. Sherlock was too close and the man was a killer after all. At that moment, Lestrade and his men broke down the door.

"Did you notice that all of those therapists needed halp more than we do?" Sherlock said after Lestrade told them they can leave.

"A gambler, a cheater, and a killer. What's next?" John shook his head. This whole nightmare better have a happy ending or someone will pay.

* * *

><p><em><strong>The Present Day<strong>_

"Mr. Holmes, Mr. Watson. You can go in now," the young receptionist said looking up from her desk.

John smiled sweetly at her before throwing a warning glare at the sulking detective.

"Let's go," he got up taking a deep breath. "Stay in your best behavior and we'll finish this fast. If we're lucky."

"Fine, I'll say whatever he wants to hear," Sherlock muttered following John.

"It's a she," John stopped in front of the doctor's office to look at his friend. "And she will not be another one of your deducing victims."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Fine, I will be nice."

"Good boy," John patted his cheek before knocking on the door and entering with a very annoyed Sherlock behind him.

* * *

><p><em><strong>4 Weeks Later<strong>_

"Sherlock." John yelled from the kitchen. "Could you come and help me with the groceries. I know you're not asleep."

He could hear Sherlock's movements as he got up lazily from the couch and, literarily, dragged himself to the kitchen. John smiled turning to look at his, not just a flatmate anymore. Who would've thought being forced into going to see a marriage counselor would actually help?

The last doctor, Dr. Jenny Collins, was very good. She was one of the few people who believed they were not a couple, but worked with them to establish what they were, which turned out to be a couple after all. Sherlock seemed to like her enough not to reveal whatever he deduced about her. After their last session with her was over, he, Sherlock, to John's surprise, thanked her.

The whole thing is still very much new to them. They did acknowledge they always had feelings for each other, but never acted on them. Fear was their main problem. However, it's all gone now, the fear of losing the other's friendship if those feeling were expressed that is, there are still other fears lurking inside of them, but they'll deal with each one at a time.

"Come on," John said taking Sherlock's face in his hands and kissing him softly. Sherlock smiled that little goofy smile he does whenever he kisses him and John's heart made a little jump in his chest. "You've been lying there all day. A little work in the kitchen will be good for you."

"I am waiting for a delivery."

"Yeah," He turned to unpack the bag. "What is it?"

"A surprise." Sherlock said hugging him from behind and resting his forehead on John's head.

"A good one?"

He felt Sherlock nodding before he spoke. "A very good one."

"I can't wait to see."

They stayed like that. John putting things away while Sherlock moving behind him with his arms still around John's waist and his head on top of John's.

John was putting the milk in the fridge when the door bell rang. Sherlock straighten up fast.

"That's mine," he yelled running down the stairs. "Don't open the door."

John chuckled imagining Mrs. Hudson's shocked face. A minute passed before Sherlock re-appeared in the living room where John was sitting in his chair. Sherlock was holding a small box and he was grinning.

"You'll love this."

John's smile almost matched his partner's grin, "show me then."

Sherlock sat on the arm of John's chair and opened the box, "Oh, it's beautiful."

John's smile fell and his eyes widened. "Ah, Sherlock."

"Humm?" Sherlock's eyes were still fixed on the object inside the box in total fascination.

"Sherlock," John said a little more loudly.

"What?" Sherlock, finally, turned to look at him.

"That's a gun."

"A revolver," his grin was back.

"I can see that," John took the small gun from the box glaring up at Sherlock. "This is the big surprise?"

"Yes," Sherlock got up leaving the box on John's lap and snatching the revolver from him. "This way," he said leaning forward so his face less than an inch away from John. "Whenever I shoot the wall, your head will be safe." He kissed John then jumped back moving fast to his room.

"Sherlock," John yelled dropping the box and running after him.


End file.
